There's a pause of about thirty seconds as the tiefling tries to read the other man, tries to calculate the likelihood that he's lying or insane, concludes that even if he were a devil in disguise it would be pointless to come to Zevlor to lie, and slowly steps back and sinks to the ground, sitting heavily.

"I don't know how this happened, but I have to get back," he says quietly. "Zurgan. I suppose you really haven't seen a tiefling before."

He rubs his temples gingerly with the backs of clawed fingers. "Zevlor. My name. It's Zevlor. I'm afraid I don't know what a Grey Warden is, either, but I'll accept whatever assistance you're willing to give."